Proximity
by borgprincess
Summary: Thanks to a mischievous ghost, Hermione is trapped in a closet. To her misfortune, she has company. One-shot in a series about Professors Granger and Snape.


A/N: This is going to be a series of one-shots involving Professors Snape and Granger. Over at HogwartsIsHome on livejournal, there's a fic-writing comm where we can earn points for our respective houses by writing for various prompts (in half an hour, ye gods). Since I've developed a theme of SSHG as professors, I've decided to post them together instead of individually. Neater, that way. ^_^ Jsyk, these aren't going to follow a strict chronological order or necessarily relate to each other, due to the random nature of the prompts.

**Proximity**

(aka _Hermione Loses Her Cool_ aka Annie _really_ sucks at titles)

"Fred! Let me out of here!" Hermione furiously slammed her palms against the wall of the closet she was trapped in. Naturally, that accomplished nothing except to emphasize how utterly helpless she was in this situation. The situation being a booby-trap which had sent her tumbling into one of Hogwarts' numerous closets, and just to make her day that much worse, there was an Impermeable Charm in place, making it impossible for her to blast her way out.

"Damn it, Fred, if you don't let me out right this minute, I'll-" she paused, unsure what she could really use to threaten a ghost determined to have the best deathday celebration ever, no matter how many students or staff he inconvenienced in the process. "I'll find a way to make you corporeal and I will hurt you severely! FRED!"

She released an inarticulate shriek of rage and proceeded to vigorously kick the wall. Which was a considerable mistake, she acknowledged, as she hopped on one foot while hissing at the pain coursing through the other.

Of course, that was the moment another body came hurtling through the temporarily permeable closet ceiling and collided with her, sending both hapless victims to the floor in a tangle of limbs. A harsh and truly creative flow of invectives tripped off her tongue at this point, her dignity having been long abandoned.

In the process of unceremoniously shoving off whoever had the good fortune to have her body cushion their fall (Hermione still nursed bruises from her collision with the floor) while still cursing furiously, she suddenly realized this was not the most professional attitude she could've displayed. Hermione couldn't remember Professor McGonagall- or, well, Minerva, now- ever losing control of herself in this manner. She'd always kept her head and been cool and calm, no matter what calamity she had to deal with.

Hmm. Shrieking and kicking things and cursing. Not really approaching the 'cool under fire' persona she wanted to project.

She scrabbled for her wand to cast the light on her fellow closet prisoner and determine who it was that she was going to try and be calm and reassuring for. This wasn't the best start, not by a long shot, but Hermione was determined to be all that was positive and comforting and upbeat for the no doubt terrified-

"My, my, Miss Granger," came a most unwelcome voice at that point. "I never suspected you had such a foul mouth on you."

Already knowing what she would find, Hermione waved her wand to the side, just in case extended closet entrapment happened to cause nasty hallucinations. Maybe Snape wasn't trapped in this closet with her. Maybe that sneering voice was just a figment of her imagination. Maybe the world didn't hate her this much-

The light illuminated a harsh, scowling face opposite her, and Hermione internally shrieked, _Why me? Why Snape? Of all the people in the bloody castle, why did it have to be the two of us stuck in here? _

Outwardly, she managed a very concise, "Ugh."

"No need to censor yourself on my behalf," he said. "Pray continue with your description of that basilisk fang lodged…where was it exactly?"

"I don't recall," she said weakly, and lapsed into an embarrassed silence. Snape hadn't taken her seriously as a teacher since the beginning of term, and now she'd done nothing to convince him otherwise with her unprofessional behavior. Why did he have to see her like this? She'd've settled for traumatizing a firstie over giving Severus Snape more reasons to sneer at her youth and immaturity.

"I take it the late..." he paused as if to cast doubt on the following, "_lamented_ Mr Weasley is behind our current predicament?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth, seething at the reminder of the wretched spirit who had caused this whole mess. "And he will be very, _very_ sorry once I'm through with him. If I ever get out of here, of course!"

She caught the rising pitch in her tone and bit back the rest of the hysterical rant just in time. _Snape. Trying to make a good impression. Do not lose the plot. _

"You realize, Miss Granger-"

That did it. "You realize, Professor Snape, that I am on the staff at this school?"

Her pointed question met with a foreboding silence from his corner, but she pressed on, "That I am a fellow professor, your colleague, and if nothing else, I am due the courtesy of being addressed appropriately? We've had our differences over the years, but I've always shown you the respect due your position!"

"Respect? Is that what you call leaving me to bleed out in the Shrieking Shack?"

"Well…that wasn't- it was rather- that's not fair, we thought you were a traitor," she protested. "It made no sense to try and heal you when it seemed like you were the enemy."

"Very well, then, what about that minor incident where you set my robes on fire in your first year?"

"Oh. You- know about that?"

"Obviously. As well as your theft of my potions ingredients in your second year."

"There were extenuating circumstances-"

"And I'm sure you don't need your memory refreshed about the exploits in your third year, the culmination of which left me unconscious, with a werewolf and a convict in the immediate vicinity, no less."

She studied her hands intently and offered no comment.

"Then you have the audacity to speak to me of respect?"

"You're right."

This time, the silence emanating from his corner had a surprised air.

"Not entirely, because it's a little harsh to ignore things like believing people's lives were in danger and trying to clear an innocent man's name, but we, I, did a lot of thoughtless things and I never had the decency to apologize or make up for it in any way. And I do owe you an apology. Even if you were deliberately unpleasant and cruel to us, which partly contributed to my never making amends, and you did invite suspicion which helped me make my erroneous assumptions about you, but, still. I _am_ sorry."

"That is the worst apology I've ever heard, Granger. And not a little offensive at parts."

She shrugged. To hell with it. "I doubt I'd win your respect by fawning all over you, and you wouldn't tolerate teary, oversentimental remorse- although I could try to wring a few tears out if that'd help." At his grimace, she continued, "It was the truth, and while I wasn't sure how it'd go over, it's the best I can manage. I know I've been thoughtless and obnoxious in the past, but well, I like to think I've improved since then. At least a little."

Hermione waited for his scathing response to what he'd no doubt call a vain hope.

"You're…not an entirely hopeless case," he conceded.

Now _she _was surprised into silence. Severus Snape admitting there was a chance she had become less obnoxious? Would wonders never cease?

"Speaking of hopeless cases, by the by, do you recall that…charmingly named group you founded in your fourth year, SPEW, was it?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "S. P. E. W. It was never-" she bit off the rest of her automatic retort. "Never mind. Yes."

"Perhaps it may go against your principles, but there is an obvious solution to our predicament."

Of all the blindingly obvious…! Hermione drummed her fist against her forehead in exasperation.

"Winky," called Snape.

A heartbeat later, a sharp _crack _rent the air and the house-elf appeared between them.

"How is Winky serving Master of Potions?" she asked deferentially. "And Mistress of Transfigurations?" she added, uneasily skittering away from Hermione, whom the house-elves still treated with wary caution, even after all these years.

"I don't know about Professor Granger, but I would like to get out of here," Snape said sardonically. "My quarters, please."

Winky seized him by the hand and then the two disappeared, leaving Hermione alone in the closet, feeling remarkably foolish.

Although…she did have to wonder. He'd evidently figured out a way to leave this trap from the start- she realized now that was what he'd been about to say, when she'd interrupted him in her rant about respect- yet…he had chosen to remain and converse with her instead of instantly summoning a house-elf and removing himself from her vicinity. It was interesting. Very interesting.

Perhaps he didn't have such a loathing of Gryffindors in general or her in particular, after all.

Why this left her with a smile on her face, she didn't know, but in light of this intriguing discovery, Hermione charitably put aside her notions of revenge against Fred. She had a theory to test…

* * *

><p><strong>Challenge #87: Closeted.<strong> _Your challenge, should you accept it, is to write an encounter that occurred in a broom closet. You may wish to discount any romantic notions (e.g. write an anti-Valentine story) or go the traditional "I snog you now we are truly an otp" route or do something more realistic. Do whatever you want. Just think of a pairing and put them in a broom closet together. What happens? Allow your brain to think and then write!_


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